End: One Hundred

Lois Lane's brow furrowed.

"A hundred? That...sounds reasonable."

"I'm glad you think so," Angelica Blaze said. "Now...to seal the deal."

The nearly naked ****-dealer extended her hand. The reporter felt a wave of relief. She reached forward and slid her palm into Blaze's. Their fingers closed.

Then Blaze pulled her into an embrace.

Lois was unprepared for the sudden move. The hard, hot body pressed against her own. The generous mouth that closed on hers. The tongue that pushed past her teeth, that squirmed deep. She especially wasn't ready for the hard lump **** down her throat.

With a lurch, the reporter pulled away. She could feel the pill travel down her esophagus.

"You bitch, what..." Lois Lane said.

Blaze sneered. "Your IQ is what? 160, 180? Such a big, juicy brain. Take a hundred points off, though..."

The undercover reporter collapsed to her knees. Her palms pressed against her temples. There was a sudden pressure in her head. A fizzing, popping sound. A smell like ozone, popcorn, burning insulation. It felt, strangely, terribly, impossibly, like her brain was melting.

"Wha...what...did you...give...me?" Lois said as her chest heaved. Her bra was suddenly too tight. Why was it too tight? Her head swam and she sniffed. It was like she had a head cold, draining into her chest. Except every time she swallowed, her bra felt tighter. The pressure in her head eased a little.

Dizzy, she stared down at her shirt, and realized something was wrong. Her tatas were pushed out far further than they should be. The straps of her bra dug into her shoulders painfully. Lois stared down at her tits and swallowed.

They swelled a little more.

It was impossible. Her brains couldn't be melting and draining into her tits. That wasn't possible...was it?

"Oh, that's the permanent blend," Blaze said. "Here, let me help you with that."

There was a swipe of the ****-dealer's hand. Lois Lane gasped in relief as shirt and bra were sliced in two, as easily as if they'd been cut by a knife. Her tits seemed to explode outward, the former palmfuls now heavy jutting hangers.

Gotta be a D...DD...DDD cup, Lois Lane thought as she stared down at her heaving boobies. What comes after D? G?

"Titties big," Lois Lane said with a sniffle.

"Titties very big," Blaze said happily. She gently pulled the reporter's hands away from her temples and stared into the big violet eyes. "Now, Lois Lane, I want you to spell 'catastrophe' for me."

Lois blinked. She sniffed again. She knew a lot of words. She knew that she knew a lot of words. Catastrophe was easy. It was.

Her tongue seemed stuck to the top of her mouth. There was a disconnect there. Lois Lane's brow furrowed. She hiccuped, which made her big titties jiggle.

"Cuh," she said. "Cuh. Kay! Kay...ae...t-tee...sss...ssstr...."

The reporter's voice trailed off. She felt panic rise in her body. Tears filled her eyes. Lois Lane wanted to beat her fists against her head, but Blaze's hold on her wrists prevented that. Instead, the reporter shook her new tits in frustration.

"Don't...don't wanna be dumb!" Lois said. "Smart! I'm smart!"

"You were," Blaze said, as she relished the reporter's distress. Her grin was demonic in its intensity, her eyes flashed pure white, and glowed from within. The **** dealer's nostrils flared as if she could snort Lois Lane's anguish like a fine line of Peruvian flake. "Now you're nothing more than a brainless big-titted bimbo. You'd probably fail an American high school as you are!"

The ****-dealer gloated savagely. Lois Lane couldn't understand why she was being so cruel. Doubt and confusion gnawed at her in a way she had never experienced before. Lois had never realized how utterly she had relied on her wits to get her out of situations, how much quick-thinking buoyed her confidence and sense of self-worth. Now, with her massive tatas hanging out, the reporter felt small and pathetic.

She gave a little sniffle. Her breasts, once pert half-teardrops, now hung like a pair of cantaloupes from her chest, impossibly swollen and round like implants. Her pink areola were stretched into broad thin disks the size of Lois Lane's palm, the nipples stiff.

"Hmm, looks like you're done growing," Blaze said appreciatively. "A hundred cc's, maybe! A good return on your investment. Oh, but I forgot: you bought a sample."

The demonic **** dealer released Lois. Her fingers made a complex motion that Lois couldn't follow, and then a baggie of pink pills appeared in her hand. She dropped them into the reporter's palm.

"Go away, Lois Lane. Go back to your life, if you can. And when you get **** enough, perhaps you'll melt what's left of your brain..."

Lois didn't understand what Blaze meant. But her hand closed mechanically on the baggie of pills. She staggered to her feet, not used to the new weight on her chest, the pain in her neck and shoulders. Wobbling uncertainly on her heels, Lois didn't even both to cover up her jiggling juggs as she stepped back into the elevator. **** to escape.

Blindly, she stabbed at the elevator button. As the door closed on Blaze's leering demonic countenance, Lois heard the shrill peel of the **** dealer's laughter...and then hot tears dripped down from Lois Lane's eyes, to splash against the valley of her new cleavage and roll down in trickling streams. Barely able to even process what she had lost.

Dull confusion hit her as the elevator rolled to a stop, and the doors opened. Lois blinked in confusion, her new default state, as she didn't see the crowded club, but an empty urban cityscape...and as she stepped forward on shaky legs, and the wind hit her exposed tits, Lois realized she was on the roof. She had hit the up button instead of down.

It was a very bimbo thing to do.

The **** were hot in her hand. All those pink pills. Lois Lane literally couldn't imagine what would happen if she took one of them in her current state. She tried to do the math...Blaze had said she had a hundred and sixty or 180 IQ, then minus a 100...that left her... Lois bit her lip, not confident in her figures. But she knew another pill would make her stupider.

"How stupid could I be?" she wondered aloud. "Stupid enough I'd forget to breath? Just a brain-dead bimbo with tits bigger than her head? Melt my brain until there's nothing left?"

Lois Lane shuddered. She had never felt an urge for self-destruction so strong before. Yet it made her nipples hard and her cunt wet just to think of that. Dizzy, she sat down and stared at the pills. If she couldn't go back to her old life like this...maybe it was the better way. Maybe it was better to not even know who she was at all.

It took a long time for Lois Lane to work out that thought. She wasn't as quick as she used to be. When, near dawn, her night out ended, she was still up on the roof. Her dim brain had finally reached a decision. A final decision.

Yet that is another story.